


falling down the stairs of your smile

by sinceregalaxy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, excessive use of the word 'okay', it's very fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 14:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21393850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinceregalaxy/pseuds/sinceregalaxy
Summary: “Well, I guess you probably have to get home and… see your boyfriend.”She rolled her eyes at that. Wanted to laugh out loud at the absurd notion.“Jaime, I don’t have a boyfriend.”His eyes sharpened. “Well, in that case,” and his uninjured hand grasped her shoulder and he leaned in.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 38
Kudos: 179





	falling down the stairs of your smile

“I’m throwing a party,” he said, out of the blue.

Brienne glanced up from what she was reading, peered at him through the fly-away hairs falling over her face. “Okay.”

His book was closed and pushed to the side of the table. Obviously not reading. Not working on the project like they were supposed to. He leaned over his hands on top the table. Fingers fidgeting restlessly like they almost always were. “It’s for the new year.”

“Okay,” she replied again, not sure why he was telling _her_ this.

Jaime rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat, seemingly giving up on whatever he’d been trying to get at. He picked up the book again, hiding his face behind the pages. She resumed her reading.

A few minutes later, she jumped at the sound of his book dropping back onto the table, disturbing the calm atmosphere in the library. Several people looked over at them, but she didn’t dwell on that for long, because he had leaned back towards her, jaw clenched and a determined look in his eyes. And in a low, slow voice, told her “I would like for you to be there.”

She felt her jaw drop slightly, and that was unfortunate. Her face was also heating up, which was even worse. She had gotten so much better at stopping her blushes in front of him, and she should not be blushing now, not when he just invited her to a party. She never got invited to parties. Why was he inviting her? She should really ask. “Okay,” she said instead.

His eyes narrowed. “Margaery and Sansa will be there.”

“Okay.”

“I invited them so you would know someone.”

“Okay.”

His eyes somehow narrowed even further. She was being difficult. And stupid. And annoying. And now she was just staring at him, like an idiot. He was clearly at his wit’s end, and she in a petrified terror, all because he’d invited her to a party. There were so many things she wanted to say, like _yes, Lannister, I would very much like to go_ or _thank you for inviting my friends even though I know you find them annoying, that was very considerate of you_ or _have you gone completely mad? Because there is no other explanation I can think of for you to ask me to go to one of _your_ parties_.

He took a deep breath. “Would you please come to my party this Friday, Brienne?”

“Okay,” she said, again. She felt herself blushing, again. _Dammit_.

He seemed to relax a bit, though. And there was even a hint of a smile on his lips as he reached oved and opened his book again. “I’ll see you there, then?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he laughed, shaking his head almost… fondly? And they spent the rest of the afternoon working.

***

Brienne really didn’t know him all that well. She knew _of_ him, obviously. Jaime Lannister. Senior lacrosse captain. Rich boy. A supposed math genius. Perpetually single. Had _allegedly_ beaten another student with a lacrosse stick his freshman year.

To be honest, Brienne didn’t think about him much at her first two years at university. She had the vague notion that he was someone she probably shouldn’t trust, and that he was in a vastly different social circle. She went to a few lacrosse games and thought he was good. Quite good, actually. He might be able to play professionally, if he wanted to. But really, he functioned as more of a notorious figurehead for everyone at school to gossip about regardless if they knew him or not. And Brienne, not one for such gossip, scarcely thought of him.

And then junior year, he became her lab partner in chemistry, and she began to understand something she had heard thousands of times from dozens of people, but never fully realized.

Jaime Lannister was hot.

He was like, really, really hot.

And yes, of course, objectively, he was beautiful. Stupidly beautiful. Brienne hated how he looked, sometimes. Sometimes she would glance up at him taking notes or measuring chemicals, and she’d be reminded how he was _exactly_ her type. And it pissed her off. She shouldn’t have a type. She couldn’t afford to be picky. And her type _definitely_ shouldn’t be someone like him.

So yeah, he was good-looking. But he _also_ had the audacity of being good-looking and being… exactly who he was.

Brienne _hated_ him at first. Jaime Lannister the rich, popular jock who didn’t have time for someone like her. Jaime Lannister who pointed out how tall and manly she was upon meeting her. Jaime Lannister who was bitingly sarcastic and abrasive and rude. But then she realized he was like that with just about everyone and everything. And for some reason he had _stopped_ being like that with her. Or at least it was more teasing than aimed to hurt her. Though she still got annoyed by it sometimes, when he turned his attitude on someone who deserved it, it was quite hilarious. So she was always stifling laughs whenever he argued with the lab TA or that one he tripped that guy who was cat calling girls and pretended it was an accident.

He was also smart. He probably _was_ a math genius. And even though she might be better at chemistry, he wasn’t far behind. But he also could carry a conversation on just about everything, and Brienne swore that she could listen to him talk for hours, because whenever he wasn’t teasing her what he said was bound to be interesting.

And as if all of that weren’t enough, him being beautiful and funny and smart, it turned out that Jaime Lannister could incredibly sweet if you only got to know him a little. He brought her coffee when they worked early in the morning. Asked her how softball was going almost every day. He gushed about his little brother _constantly_. It was infuriating.

So by the time they started working on their end-of-semester project in the library (despite not really knowing much about him personally and despite him being miles out of her league and despite begging herself, nightly, to cease whatever nonsense was happening) Brienne was already half in love with Jaime Lannister.

And he’d invited her to his new year’s party.

_Fuck_.

***

Brienne almost didn’t go to the party, but Sansa and Margaery wouldn’t let her get out of it. She took the night off from work and he friends helped her get ready and they didn’t pester her _too_ much about wearing a dress or lots of make-up. She’s chose jeans and a shirt that dipped lower than what she usually wore. A little bit of mascara. Her hair was still up, but Sansa put something in it to help tame the fly-aways a bit. She looked… okay. Better than usual, at least.

The three of them stood in front of the mirror and Margaery said, “We look fantastic! Jaime Lannister isn’t going to know what to do with us.” But she looked right at Brienne when she said that, and “us” sounded a lot more like “you.”

Brienne didn’t say anything, but she could feel her face heat up and blush. _Traitor_.

They got to Jaime’s house when the party was already in full swing. Sansa and Margaery immediately pushed her towards the kitchen so Brienne could make them drinks. There was a ridiculous amount of expensive alcohol on the island and plenty of mixers in the fridge. It was to be expected, she supposed, for a Lannister house. She was just finishing up Sansa’s drink when Jaime walked in.

“You’re here!” he exclaimed. Definitely already a bit more than tipsy.

“Lannister,” she greeted him.

“Are you making drinks? You seem good at it,” he said, making his way further into the kitchen. She could feel Sansa and Margaery’s eyes on them.

“I’m a bar tender.”

“I didn’t know that,” he pouted, and seemed… genuinely disappointed before asking if she’d make him a drink. She did and as soon as he took a sip his eyes lit up. “Holy shit, wench, this is amazing.”

“Wench?” she choked out.

“Yeah, like a tavern wench. That’s what you remind me of just now.” He smiled, seeming quite pleased with himself, like he wanted her to be quite pleased by the comment as well.

She didn’t know what to say to something like that, so she just blurted, “There are a lot of people here.” _Why can’t she have a normal conversation with him?_ Sansa squeaked, and Jaime gave her a weird look, like he hadn’t realized she had been sitting there this whole time, before looking back to Brienne.

He shrugged, “I don’t really know most of them.”

“Okay,” she replied, and Jaime smiled like it’s what he was made to do, and _oh_, Brienne _hated_ him sometimes.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but someone from the other room cried out “Lannister!” and came barreling through the kitchen and dragged Jaime away.

Brienne grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured herself a shot. She almost never drank. And so of course Margaery started staring at her looking like she was about to say something like _holy shit, Brienne, why didn’t you tell me this was happening_. So Brienne held a finger up to her, took the shot, and left the kitchen with “We are not talking about this tonight.”

***

Everything went well until about a quarter to midnight.

Aside from the knowing looks from Margaery and Sansa, Brienne actually had a good time until then. She knew more people there than she thought she would, and it was surprisingly easy to talk to them and to the new people she met (though that may have been thanks to the alcohol).

She didn’t speak to Jaime again during that time. But she saw him being dragged from one group of people to the next. Everyone seemed to want a piece of him. His eyes found hers every once in a while. He always smiled softly at her.

It was not helping her mental state. Not one bit.

So Brienne got a little drunk and talked to people and tried not to think about Jaime too much and generally had a good time. Until Connington found her.

And really, he wasn’t so bad. His insults hadn’t gotten anymore creative since freshman year, and its nothing she hadn’t heard a million times before. But it _did_ put a bit of a damper on her mood. She let him say his piece and just replied with lots of “uh-huhs” and “sures.” He was more than a bit drunk and she was not listening, so it actually ended up being a bit funny, letting him think he was hurting her while she just let all of his jabs go right through her. It was something she needed to try doing sober, too.

She was turned away from him, vacantly staring at a picture on the wall of the living room (she thought it must have been Jaime and his brother, at a water park when they were younger) when she heard Connington bellow “What the _fuck_, man.” And the whole house went quiet.

She turned back to where Connington was just a moment ago and found Jaime instead, breathing heavily. Connington was on the ground, clutching his bleeding nose.

“Don’t fucking say stuff like that to her,” Jaime seethed.

Connington laughed. “Chill out, dude. She can take it.”

She saw Jaime clench his fists and take a step closer to Connington, and she finally broke out of her shock to hold him back by his shoulder. “Lannister, leave it. It’s fine.”

He jerked out of her grip, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop whatever he decided to do now. But he just took a deep breath, let the raging fire in his eyes dim to a simmer. “Leave. Now.”

Connington laughed again, but whatever he saw in Jaime’s eyes put a shaky, nervous sound in it. He stood slowly, still clutching at his nose, and weaved through the silent guests towards the exit. When the sound of shutting door resonated through the house, Jaime relaxed and put on a bright smile. “Alright everyone, show’s over. But, its almost midnight, so the _firework_ show should be starting anytime.”

And just like that the tense silence dissolved as people started moving outside. Jaime didn’t though, and so neither did she.

“Fireworks?” she blurted, when the house had pretty much cleared out.

He shrugged. “I like to be dramatic.”

“Well, yes, I can see that,” she replied, and he laughed. And they stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking at things around the room just to avoid looking at each other. And it was when her gaze was shifting that she noticed his hand.

“Shit, you’re bleeding.”

He looked down at his hand in surprise. “Oh, um… yeah.”

“We need to clean it.”

“Okay.” But he didn’t move. And this time she rolled her eyes at him.

“Come on,” she said and dragged him towards the kitchen.

He sat himself on the counter and directed her to where the antiseptic wash and bandages were kept. She cleaned the cuts on his knuckles and started winding the bandages around his hand. He did have really nice hands, but she did _not_ need to be thinking about that right now when he was _bleeding_, but at least it was distracting her from wondering what it meant that he had been staring at her this whole time without saying a word. _Gods_, she was a lost cause.

“Thank you,” he said when she was done wrapping the gauze around him.

“That’s… what friends are for.” She began to wash her hands in the sink.

“Is that what we are? Friends?” He was on the counter still, leaning against the cabinets and looking deflated. He wasn’t Jaime Lannister the snarky asshole right now. Or Jaime Lannister her surprisingly kind lab partner. Or the cheerful, drunken party host. Or the angry boy who had punched someone in the face for insulting her. Jaime Lannister… was something else. Something she hadn’t seen before.

“If that’s… If that’s what you want,” she forced herself to say.

He didn’t say anything back.

She toweled her hands dry, slowly. “You didn’t have to do that. What you… did back there,” she sighed. “But thank you.”

He finally hopped off the counter. “Yeah, well, that’s what friends are for.”

She exhaled a small laugh at that, and then the fireworks started going off outside. They both turned towards the window. They couldn’t see the fireworks from inside, but they were lighting up the guests in the yard. Many of them cheering. Some of them passed out in the grass. A few of them embracing.

“Happy New Year, Brienne.”

“Happy New Year, Lannister.”

“Call me Jaime.”

“Okay. Happy New Year, Jaime.” He was Jaime in her head. But always Lannister out loud. It was strange, finally pulling the name out of her mind and placing it on him, where it belonged. She could feel something crumbling within herself. The foundations upon which she stood quaking.

He turned quickly and stepped so that he was standing, closely, in front of her. “Well, I guess you probably have to get home and… see your boyfriend.”

She rolled her eyes at that. Wanted to laugh out loud at the absurd notion.

“Jaime, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

His eyes sharpened. “Well, in that case,” and his uninjured hand grasped her shoulder and he leaned in.

“Jaime, what are you doing?” He was close, so close. His nose rested against hers. His fingers pressed into her shirt and burned her skin through the fabric. Their bodies were mere inches from touching.

“Nothing.”

She took a shaky breath. “It feels like something.”

“Okay, fine. It’s something.”

“And what would you say it is?”

“I call it…” his tongue darted out to wet his lips and it almost _almost_ touched hers. “Very close talking.”

And suddenly she was remembering all the people there tonight, all the ones outside cheering and kissing while the fireworks erupted through the night sky. “And… and wouldn’t you rather be talking very closely with someone else?” Because surely, there had to be someone out there. Wittier. Smarter. More beautiful than her.

“Hmm… no, I am very much enjoying talking very closely with you.” His voice was so low and so soft right now. Her heart was beating so fast. He could probably hear it. Her skin was probably so red. _Damn_.

“You’re drunk.”

“So are you.”

“There are a lot of people here.”

“I don’t care.”

But she… did care. They were drunk and he had punched someone and there were dozens of people outside. Something felt right, it did. Brienne wanted to kiss Jaime Lannister. Wanted him to push her back against the counter and she would thread her fingers through his perfect, golden hair while he did so. And Jaime Lannister, somehow, _miraculously_, might just want to kiss her, too. But the sound of the fireworks had ceased, and she could hear people making their way out of the cold and back inside. So it wouldn’t,_ it couldn’t_, be tonight.

She took a deep breath. “Do you… do you have anything else to say?”

He shifted, and she felt the slightest brush against her upper lip. “I… no. Not… not tonight.” And then he pulled away just as a group of boys entered the kitchen, and just like that Jaime Lannister was pulled away from her.

Brienne found Margaery walking back into the house propping up Sansa, who had definitely had one too many and needed to go home. So combed through the house and found all their jackets, and then they left.

They had just made it down the drive way when she heard someone shout “Wench!” from behind them.

She turned and saw Jaime standing on the porch, grinning, and she knew he was pleased that she had responded to the nickname. Brienne didn’t move, but Margaery pushed her back towards the house and began walking ahead, holding up Sansa, who was quietly murmuring “did she kiss him yet, Marg? She should definitely kiss him.”

Jaime hopped, _hopped_, over the porch railing, stumbling a bit on his landing, and ran up to her. “Tomorrow,” he declared, poking his finger into her chest. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“It is tomorrow,” she muttered.

His face split into a smile, and it was more radiant than she had ever seen it before. He reached up and pushed one of her fly-aways back behind her ears. “Then I’ll see you today.”

And Brienne, stupidly, couldn’t stop the blush or the smile or the fluttering of her stomach that overcame her. 

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know. I know. The okay thing is really cliché. But I think it's cute, don't @ me.
> 
> "Very close talking" is taken from S2E9 of Psych, because I am in love with that scene.
> 
> Drop a kudos and a comment if you don't mind. It keeps me wanting to write. (I am really bad about writing one thing for a fandom and then just disappearing into oblivion, and I would like to keep writing JB. I _really_ would.)


End file.
